


Aftermath

by missfortunesirprize



Series: An Age Old Story [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 13:10:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3730147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missfortunesirprize/pseuds/missfortunesirprize
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He started using it as a marker in time. Life before James Barnes, and this, life after James Barnes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing except this severely underdeveloped idea.

The dark desk in front of him was littered with metal, wires and switches, and Steve watched warily from the doorway as he reached out and grabbed the half full bottle of whiskey and took a long drink, sighing and wiping at his eyes with a rough hand. "Howard?" The man's shoulders stiffened, but he didn't turn around to face Steve, knuckles turning white from where he had his fists clenched around the edges of the desk. "You need sleep." Steve took small steps closer, moving with wariness as if Howard was a dangerous animal, and put a hand on his shoulder, trying not to react to the drastically thinner shoulder under his hands, or the way he could see Howard's spine through his shirt. "Come on, I'll get you some food and then you can sleep." Howard willingly went, almost like a puppet under Steve's arm, and ate everything put in front of him with mechanical movements, as if he wasn't anything more than one of his own inventions. Steve moved his chair closer, grabbing Howard's hand before it could reach for the alcohol, "Talk to me, Howard. I'm here." There was a sharp inhale from the thin man to his left, bruises under his eyes almost permanent and tears started to leak out of those glazed eyes as he whispered "I just need to hear his voice again." There was pain and anger all mixed up in that small voice, and it made Steve hurt to hear it. "I know. Me too." That was apparently the wrong thing to say, because the tray of food hit the wall and then Howard was on the other side of the room, one hand pulling at his hair. "Do you?" The tears flowed freely now, and Steve sat frozen in his chair, not sure how to respond to this. "Of course you do, what am I thinking, he's your bestfriend, you get it but you don't because you don't see it, not that way, and I made a mistake, Steve, help me, I made a mistake." He moves while he says this, until he ends up on the floor beside Steve's chair, curling his fingers around the sharp and wicked blade of a knife, and Steve panics, he's never seen anyone like this before, let alone men like Howard who are proud and fierce and strong. "What did you do?" But Howard doesn't answer, because he's looking down at the ground, hair hanging in his face and the force of the sobs shake his whole body. "I didn't say it back, Steve. He said it and I didn't say it back, I couldn't and now I'll never get a chance." He lifts his head then, and his eyes are cold again, distant and he looks down at the knife in Steve's hand, then straight into Steve's eyes. "I would do it myself but I can't." Steve's confused, but the way Howard's fingers start to undo the buttons on his shirt is telling, and he shakes his head, "Howard, no." The open shirt exposes his chest, leaving an easy path to his heart and he grabs Steve's hand, stronger than anyone would have expected by his appearance, "I've never asked you for anything, Steve. So I'm asking now, because you're the only one I can ask." Steve moves from the chair, moves across the room and holds the knife like it's something dirty and he's looking at Howard with pity and sadness, and Howard doesn't move, just looks up at the roof with his hands behind his back, waiting. "I can't do that, Howard. You're my friend and I'm not losing another one." The look Howard gives him is full of anger and pain and hate, and he grabs the knife out of Steve's hand, wrapping the open shirt around him and turning to leave but not before saying "I thought you were supposed to help people." and Steve watches him leave, his steps pronounced like he's trying with all he can not to fall to the ground and fall apart.


End file.
